One Griphook, Two Griphook, Three
by kirsant
Summary: All goblins are named Griphook. Right? Harry certainly thinks so. Humorous one-shot, inspired by a reddit prompt.


The day was beautiful, cheery. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walked up the front steps of Gringotts and made their way into the cool foyer, where a pair of Goblin guards hastily retreated before the Golden pair. Ignoring their obvious displays of reverence, Harry approached the front desk and said, "Griphook!"

The goblin in question was busy signing off on some documents. He didn't notice what a magnanimous duo had come to see him today, and so, without properly checking his surroundings, he growled, "My name is Slipslick!", pointing to his chest, where, indeed, a large name-tag did proclaim that he was, in fact, "Slipslick."

"Another one," Harry sighed, taking out his wand. "Obliviate!"

From his side, Hermione blanched. "Harry!" she gasped, staring at the dazed goblin. "Whatever did you do that for?!"

"He didn't know his own name," Harry explained patiently as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"He didn't...what?! It was Slipslick! It says so right there!" She pointed at the name-tag, which was now a little askew.

"Exactly!" Harry exclaimed. "Poor chap even put the on wrong name-tag! What a tragedy. Early-onset dementia with a dab of PTSD, no doubt."

"PTSD?"

"Why, from you seeing your hair, of course!" Harry laughed, but then quickly corrected himself. "I'm joking, I'm joking. Hermione...no...don't cry...It's really nice today. Really. Really...err...bushy. Anyways! Griphook!" He quickly turned away from a very mean-looking Hermione, who wasn't even remotely weepy, and said, "We're here to see The Vault!"

He put a special emphasis on "The Vault" like it was important. The goblin nodded gravely. "Griphook will see to it, sir, right away," he said, calling up a pair of goblin underlings. Upon hearing their names, Harry paled considerably.

"Obliviate! Obliviate!" The spells flew out of his wand, hitting both goblins in the head and stopping them in their tracks. Shaking their heads, they looked at each other, confused, and asked, "Griphook?"

"What the hell is the matter with you?!" Hermione hissed, pushing Harry aside. "What are you doing?!"

"Look," Harry said, "I didn't want to tell you. But it's Death Eaters, Hermione."

"What? Death Eaters?"

"Yeah. Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?! Isn't he doing that…" Hermione waved her hand in the air, because adequately explaining what exactly Draco Malfoy was doing wasn't an easy task. Animal training was the closest fit, but that didn't really cover it. Malfoy had managed to get one of his peacocks on a professional Quidditch team. Well, it was the Cannons, so that almost didn't count, but still. Ron was adamant Malfoy was doing it out of personal grudge.

"With the peacocks, yeah…" Harry nodded. "Turns out, that was just a cover. Malfoy's turned all Death Eater! He's plotting to get daddy dearest out of Azkaban."

"Really?" asked Hermione, looking worried.

"Yup." Again, Harry nodded. "And his first step was to change all these Goblins' names!"

Hermione cocked her head and frowned. "His first step was to...what?"

"Change all their names," Harry said. "I've been going around all morning, setting them right."

"The goblins?"

"Yup."

"You've been changing all their names?"

"Changing them _back!"_ Harry huffed. "Aren't you listening?! Malfoy is a Death Eater, he wants to break Lucius out of prison, and he altered all the goblin names to do it!"

Hermione frowned even more. "Harry...are you ok? How are you feeling? I'd imagine that after yesterday–"

"Hermione!" Harry yelled. "You aren't listening! God, why does no one listen?! Are you in league with him?!"

"What?! With Malfoy? No!"

"Then than means he got you too! He got everyone!" Panicked, Harry raised his wand and exclaimed, "Obliviate!"

Hermione's face became vacant. Harry panted, staring at her, and then cautiously asked, "Griphook?"

Slowly, Hermione nodded.

Harry exhaled, breathing a profound sound of relief. He even wiped some sweat off his brow.

"Good," he muttered. "Can't believe he caught you in his web. Gotta be more careful, Herm...I mean, Griphook. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Nervously, Harry chuckled.

"The Vault, sir?" One of the goblins nearby asked.

"The Vault!" Harry said. "Yes, yes. Mustn't tarry. Lead on, good sirs!"

The goblins, looking vaguely alarmed at being addressed in such Monty Python-esque way, scurried forward, leading the group into a set of lifts. Only when the doors closed did Harry put away his wand.

"Griphook," he said.

"Yes?" said the two goblins and Hermione.

"Not you." Hermione looked sad. "What's the status on The Vault?"

"We've buffed up security," one of the goblins answered. "Full warding, two trolls, and an auror strike team is lying in wait. We're ready for anything."

"Good," Harry said. "Good."

The lift doors opened; the group plodded through. They were in the lower levels of Gringotts, with the mysterious Vault was still a cart-ride away. After jostling for prime seating (Griphook won), they set off. Stone monoliths flew past, stalagmites and stalactites a blur in the dark. The air became chilly; whipping through their hair, it sung a song of the depths: of damp caverns and forgotten gold, of blood, and of that endless, enduring quality of stone, which withstands ages, unchanging, while the world goes its way.

When they arrived, Harry helped Griphook out of the cart, who brushed her hair and nodded thankfully. Together, they carefully tread forwards towards the massive double-doors that guarded The Vault. Stone bas-reliefs stared at them from the sides; otherwise, it seemed empty.

Harry raised his wand.

With one word, it all changed. As if pulling away a curtain, the air rippled in front of them. A luminescent cage appeared: magical spells, interwoven together to apprehend any intruder. Aurors stood on the outer edge, their heavy protective robes swaying in a breeze that seemed to originate out of nowhere. One of them was hastily approaching.

"Harry?" Ron asked, trotting up and looking confused. "I thought Sanders was coming. Aren't you on medical leave? The doctors said…"

"I'm fine," Harry cut him off. "How are things here?"

"Alright, I suppose. All quiet. Listen, you should be in bed. Hermione, you fine with this?"

Griphook ignored him.

"Hermione?" Ron asked again. "Bunny?"

"What?" asked Griphook, sporting a dazed appearance.

"I said, Harry was–"

"Look, Ron, there's no time," Harry waved his hands, cutting him off again. "I just got word. Malfoy's a Death Eater."

"Malfoy?! Really? Didn't he pass all of the–"

"Fooled every test. And the peacocks? Just a cover."

"The peacocks…" Ron growled. "You know he did that on purpose? To prove a point?! Claimed a peacock could play better than most of the Cannons' squad!"

"Well," Harry paused. "He was right."

"That's not the point!" Ron exploded. "It was just to get at me! And that stupid peacock is just getting lucky! Thirty goals in two games, my arse! He's probably cheating! He's–"

"Did you call me _Bunny?"_ Griphook suddenly intervened.

Ron shut up and paled. "Err…"

" _Bunny?!_ Really, Ron?! _Really?_ We're out in the field! Don't you know how demeaning that is?! And think of the example you're setting! Now every auror within earshot will think it's fine to call a female colleague that way, as if there's not enough oppressive patriarchy to go around!" Griphook was just getting started, bushy hair hissing dangerously. "It's bad enough that I get fondled every time I'm on the lift, and half the Auror Department oogles my tits, but–"

"Oh, c'mon, not _half…"_ Ron rolled his eyes.

"It sure feels that way!"

"Come off it, Hermione, there's really not much to oogle–"

" _EXCUSE ME?!"_

"Where's Hermione?" Harry suddenly butted in.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Hermione," said Harry. "Where is she?"

"Err," Ron said. "She's right here, mate."

"That's not Hermione."

"I'm not Hermione!"

Ron blinked. "What?"

"My name is Griphook!" Griphook yelled, punching Ron in the chest.

"Are you mental?" Ron asked, rubbing the spot where she hit him. "What is this?"

"No, Ron," said Harry quietly. "We're not mental. But you're infected. I see now. You are all...INFECTED!" He whisked out his wand. Ron's eyes went wide; he tried to dodge, but Harry was too close. "Obliviate!"

The other aurors, previously listening with some amusement to the trio's bickering at a distance, reacted instantly. Spells began to fly, red stunners piercing the dark like lightsabers.

"Cover me!" yelled Griphook, his freckled face flushed and sweating.

" _Protego Fluida!"_ yelled the other Griphook, setting a fluidly protective barrier around the boys as they darted forward.

Two aurors went down quick; the rest retreated, throwing out spells from behind a stone outcropping. Suddenly, there was a roar.

"Shite, Harry, it's the trolls!" Griphook gasped. He'd been grazed in the fight, one of his arms bleeding lightly.

"We don't have time for this!" Harry swore. "Every second we're here, Malfoy is getting more troops! He's already cursed half the Ministry...even managed to get you down here!"

"So what do we do?"

"Hit the danger right at the source," Harry declared. "You, me, and Griphook. Just like old times. You ready?"

"Always," said Griphook.

"Always," echoed the other Griphook.

"Then let's go. Malfoy Manor. On three. One, two…"

"Harry."

"What?"

"We can't apparate here. Anti-apparition wards, remember? Are you _sure_ you're okay after yesterday's? The booze alone was…"

"I'm FINE!" Harry yelled. "Why does everyone keep asking that?! Okay, let's get the cart. Once we're out, we apparate and burn that whole rotten place down. You with me?!"

"Yeah!" yelled both Griphooks.

...The goblins got out of their way.

 **. . . .**

Malfoy Manor was a study in excess. Who really needs gilded mackerels? The flying and singing kind, that is. Other examples included: rose bushes made out of diamond, twenty-three dressed-up mimes, and a whole army of peacocks.

Yes, peacocks. They were everywhere. Malfoy had gone a little crazy in his training, but then, on the other hand, it _was_ paying off. Fliphaus Bumweener (the peacock Malfoy had successfully signed to the Cannons) was quickly ascending to starhood status. Already, there was merchandise with his face on it. At Hogwarts, McGonagall had been forced to ban T-Shirts that screamed "Bumweener! Bumweener! Cheer if you are not a weiner!" in anyone's face. The hastily-written rhyme was really getting out of hand.

"We'll go up the center, yeah?" Harry was saying.

"Isn't that a bit obvious?" Griphook said.

"He'll never expect it. Watch out for any traps, though. Heaven knows what's he got in there."

The plan set, they started off. Contrary to their expectations, there were no monsters. No nasty spells, earning to chop a head off; no ferocious fauna, eager for a bite; and not even a single measly Death Eater. It was light, it was airy, and had anyone unfamiliar taken one look at the place, they would have concluded that it was the home to a harmless, if slightly eccentric, billionaire.

Malfoy greeted them on the front steps.

"Potter?" he asked, looking confused. "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be resting? The doctors said–"

"I HAVE HAD IT WITH PEOPLE ASKING ABOUT MY WELL-BEING!" Harry screamed. "FINE, THANK YOU! I AM PERFECTLY, WONDERFULLY, FINE!"

A potent silence greeted his fury. Malfoy chewed the inside of his cheek and then asked, "Why does Granger have a name-tag that says 'Griphook'?"

"What?" asked Harry, while Ron turned around. "Hey! I want one!" he said. "Where'd you get it?"

"Nicked it," Hermione said proudly, and then added, "Wait. Why did I do that?"

"Oh no." Harry paled. "It's wearing off."

"What's wearing off?" asked Ron, who had also started to blink dazedly.

Hermione's eyes went wide. "His magic!" she yelled. "He cursed us! Malfoy, grab him! He's not himself after yesterday!"

The short scuffle that followed would have gone down in history had there been anyone (except the peacocks, that is) to witness it. Harry fought tooth and nail. He pulled Hermione's hair, punched Malfoy in the face, and almost sunk his teeth into Ron's ear (turning one of them into Mike Tyson and the other into George), when Hermione managed to fire off a stunner.

"Vat 'a bloody 'ell," said Malfoy, holding his nose. His cheeks and chin were coated with blood. "Is this 'bout…"

"Yesterday," finished Ron, grunting as he rose to his feet.

"I have had it!" hissed Hermione, whose hair had tangled into such a ratty mess, that any rat would instantly keel over in pity at the first sight of her. "Will someone please finally tell me what the hell happened yesterday?! Why is he acting like this?"

Ron suddenly looked guilty.

"You should look guilty," said Malfoy, after fixing his nose with a spell. "It's your fault."

"It's not _all_ my fault," Ron wanely defended himself.

"Oh yeah?" asked Malfoy. "Who got the booze?"

"It was a bachelor's party! Booze is a given!"

"Yeah, but not three _barrels_ per person! I know you drink like a troll, Weasley, but Potter obviously couldn't handle it!"

"Looks like you fared perfectly well," Ron grumbled, and Malfoy ignored him. Hermione took the moment to ask, "You were at Harry's bachelor's party?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It was in the Manor, Granger. _Of course,_ I was there. Invited, even. But you know who _wasn't_ invited? The goblin."

"The goblin?" Hermione asked, watching curiously as Ron's face turned red.

"I thought…" he started to mutter, but then Malfoy cut him off.

"The _stripper_ goblin."

Hermione's eyes grew to the size of saucers. Slowly, she turned in Ron's direction and asked, "You got a _stripper_ goblin for Harry's bachelor party?"

"I was low on funds, okay?!" Ron exploded as Hermione threw her head back and started cackling. "There were unexpected expenses! So I took the cheapest option, although the lady at the agency promised a 'memorable' performance!"

"Oh, it was memorable, alright," Malfoy agreed acidly. "That green appendage… Never thought a goblin would have had it in him..." He shuddered.

"So, wait…" Hermione asked, wiping the tears streaming down her cheeks. " _That's_ what Harry's fixation on goblings is about? Last night's stripper? He wasn't named Griphook, was he?"

Ron's chagrined expression was more than enough to answer that question, and Hermione once again started squealing in peels of laughter. "A goblin stripper…" she gasped, "at Harry Potter's bachelor party...wait till _The Prophet_ hears..."

"It would have been fine," Ron grumbled, straightening his robes, "funny joke and all that. If _someone_ –" he shot a nasty glare in Malfoy's direction, "–wouldn't have started experimenting with mind-altering spells."

"I was on my second barrel of wine," Malfoy shrugged as if it was nothing. "Judgement was impaired."

"I'll say…"

The group all sighed. Hermione slowly put herself back together, running her wand through her hair to create a modicum of presentability. It was quiet. Only the peacocks, training on brooms and balance beams with quidditch balls, made any sound. It was peaceful. Serene, even.

A serenity which was promptly shattered by the arrival of one Ginny Weasley.

"Harry," she said icily, looking down at the stunned man on the ground. "Why is there a naked goblin in my mother's pantry? How did he get there and why is he tied up? We can't free him, and boy does he smell."

Harry, who had just begun feeling the stunning spell wearing off, grunted audibly.

It was going to be a long day.


End file.
